


The Re-Education of Sam Flynn

by nhpw



Series: The Re-Education 'Verse [1]
Category: Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bondage, Collars, Discipline, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Restraints, Sex Toys, Submission, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate universe where Kevin and Sam Flynn return together from the Grid, Kevin approaches his old friend and former Dominant Alan Bradley for help in curbing Sam's promiscuity. He gets it - and Sam gets much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Re-Education of Sam Flynn, Part 1: Collared

**Author's Note:**

  * For [telera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/gifts).



> I wrote this story a lifetime ago. Truly. And I finally decided it needs to go somewhere, if only to be archived for myself.
> 
> This series is a bit of a soapbox at times. It uses a M/m relationship (and M/M/m in later books) to explore and express the true inner-workings of a Dominant/submissive dynamic. If at times as you read, you find yourself wondering, "Is that really how it is?" - yes, sometimes. BDSM is fluid, open, flowing; kink is forever subject to growth and change. But know that Sam often speaks with my voice.
> 
> I wrote this long before EL James, before 50 Shades, and with scores more experience than James would ever have. Alan and Junior embody two types of Doms, of which there are many. Neither is more correct than the other, but both of them are more correct than Christian Grey.
> 
> I'm gifting this story to telera, who gave the original prompt that birthed this universe, and who was my sounding board, editor, co-author, cheerleader and confidant as I wrote. I miss you, dear friend, and hope that this walk down memory lane finds you well.

It was a question born of a history between the two men as they sat on bar stools, casually sipping from identical beer bottles: “How long have you wanted to fuck Sam?”

Alan had blinked, sure that he’d misunderstood, but Flynn had repeated the question as casually as if they’d been talking about the fact that tomorrow was Thursday or that the sky was blue or that Alan was gay.

“Years.” The response was chased by a long swig from the bottle in his hand. “But he’s too young. And he’s straight.”

Flynn had laughed at that, a little too long and a little too loud, and then he’d looked Alan in the eyes and said, “Not straight. Just kinky. Probably thinks you’re too vanilla for him. You ask me, it’s about time you showed him otherwise.”

Basic negotiations had followed. Flynn had bowed to Alan’s right to set the rules. Of course he had. And now, fuck, now Alan was sure he’d had too much to drink because he was surely hallucinating.

“Stay still, Sam.”

“What…?”

Sam was shirtless and drowsy and _beautiful_ , and Alan managed a tight swallow as he watched Flynn pull his son’s arms above his head and behind his back. When Sam struggled, Flynn climbed into Sam’s bed and negotiated the young man’s head into his lap while his legs crossed over Sam’s torso, effectively rendering him motionless.

“You’ll enjoy this,” he murmured as Sam went still. He leaned over, letting his shadow eclipse Sam’s face entirely, and pressed the gentlest of kisses to Sam’s forehead. “Promise.” A nod in Alan’s direction, and only then did Sam seem to realize there was someone else in the room.

“Alan…?”

Alan took a couple of silent steps forward, hands stuffed in the pockets of his beige trousers, giving him a mostly non-threatening appearance. But Sam didn’t miss the glint in his eye, and sure enough, Alan’s left hand came out of his pocket and undid his belt and fly single-handedly with practiced ease. Then Alan strolled the rest of the way to Sam’s bedside and blinked at Kevin, to which the elder Flynn gave a single nod. Non-verbal communication. You’d have thought the two men long married for how well they pulled it off. Then Flynn said gruffly, “Anything you want, man,” and Alan shook himself out of his pants and briefs before reaching out to touch Sam for the first time.

He cupped the young man’s cheek gently, like a lover, the way he’d always imagined, because before a moment like this, that face deserved a touch of gentleness. Sam almost smiled – there were tears in his eyes, Alan didn’t miss that, and he was shaking just a little, and Alan held onto the moment, because he didn’t want to let go of the part of tonight where Sam looked at him like that.

There were other things he wanted to see, though – other expressions, other contortions of those smooth features – that had him taking his cock in hand and pressing the head against Sam’s lips.

The way the boy whimpered at the salty trail of precum that found its way to his lower lip when he didn’t open his mouth shattered the rest of Alan’s resolve and patience. He reached out with a thumb. “Open,” he instructed, sure for a second that it wasn’t he who was actually speaking. But that was definitely his brain telling his thumb to press firmly down on Sam’s lower lip in an attempt to force his mouth open; that was definitely his own jaw clenching when he couldn’t manage the trick; that was definitely his voice that ground out, “You wouldn’t want me to fuck you dry, now, would you?”

“Open your mouth, Sam,” Flynn instructed, and when Sam shook his head stubbornly, Flynn glanced at Alan with a bit of an apologetic look before pinching the boy’s nose shut. “I don’t know why you fight it. You know you love it. How many times have I caught you, huh? How many different men just since I’ve been home? How many were there before that? And for Alan you put up a fight?”

Sam whimpered; puffed out his cheeks and inevitably dropped his jaw to inhale. Alan was ready, thrusting two long fingers into Sam’s open mouth and pressing down firmly on the boy’s tongue. “Don’t you dare bite me,” he growled as he removed his glasses with his left hand, setting them down on Sam’s nightstand. He watched recognition flash across Sam’s features, like maybe he’d been thinking about doing that exact thing to Alan’s fingers – or his dick, and just to remove that thought from his little head, Alan withdrew his fingers and backhanded Sam once across the mouth. While his lips were still parted in shock, Alan slipped his cock into the waiting wetness.

Sam’s eyes went closed as Alan went deeper and realized – Sam wasn’t gagging. He wasn’t sputtering or choking or anything. He knew how to deepthroat, knew how to suck cock like a pro, and that made Alan angry. He shook his head as Sam took him easily all the way, until his nose was buried in Alan’s pubic hair. “Your dad was right. You are a little slut.”

“Isn’t he?” Flynn remarked, and Sam struggled in his dad’s hold, but Flynn held his wrists tighter with one hand and dug into his hair with the other. Sam bucked his hips but that only served to convince Alan he wanted this, that it turned him on. 

“Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll get your turn soon enough. If you’re a good boy, I might even let you cum.” Alan relished the devious tone in his own voice. He had never spoken like this to Sam, although he’d wanted to – oh how he’d wanted to.

He began to move, fucking Sam’s throat with long, slow thrusts of his hips, forcing Sam to take all of him, to feel all of him. He reached out and ran his hand through Sam’s hair, returning to the gentleness from before. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he murmured. “But if I’d known how wonderful you look with a cock sliding between your lips, I would’ve done this years ago. I probably should have. You’re a pro. That says to me you do this a lot. How do you usually do it, huh? Like this, with your dad holding you down so you can pretend you don’t want it? Or is that just for me?” Sam clenched his eyes shut and moaned around Alan’s thickness. “Oh Sam…” Alan let out a full-fledged moan of his own as he threw his head back, eyes closed, and picked up the speed of his thrusts unexpectedly, and Sam choked just a little before he adjusted and worked his throat and jaw around Alan again, and it felt glorious even before he looked down. And then, fuck, then those bright blue eyes were looking up at him, wet with unshed tears, and Alan had to pull out of that wonderful mouth before he lost it. “Next time,” he panted as he stepped back, taking note of the way his precum and Sam’s spit combined to make a particularly dirty drool coming over Sam’s bottom lip, “Next time I’ll let you taste me.”

“You want inside?” Kevin asked. “Because he doesn’t need much prepping.”

“No, please, don’t…” Sam shook his head, eyes centering on Alan, expression begging for pity even more than his whimper. And Alan was on the edge of granting it; he wasn’t going to rape the kid. Dubious consent was one thing, fucked-upped-ness was acceptable, but he drew the line where there was clearly no consent at all. He would use Sam as long as Sam wanted to be used. If he didn’t… but he didn’t have to make the choice, because Sam said, “Not without…”

“Without what?” Alan took a confident step back toward the bed. Eyes on Sam as he loosened and removed his tie, followed by his shirt, then the undershirt and Alan was naked. “You want my fingers first, is that it?”

Sam stared at Alan. The fire and fight returned to his eyes and he set his jaw. He said nothing.  
“Answer the man, Sam.” That was Flynn. Sam struggled violently and Flynn rolled with him – let Sam spin out just enough to find himself flat on his front, face down on the bed before Flynn jumped on his back and re-secured Sam’s wrists. This time, he used Alan’s discarded tie. When he re-negotiated Sam onto his back, he threaded his arms through the holes created by Sam’s arms being bowed out to either side and knitted firm fingers over Sam’s chest.

Sam keened in a way that might have been a sound of regret, but he stopped resisting, and Alan climbed up to kneel in front of him. Removed Sam’s boxers without ceremony. Spat on his fingers. Looked up at Flynn, who raised his eyebrows and nodded before looking down at Sam’s face again. “Alan doesn’t do lube, Son,” Flynn intoned as though he had experience in such matters. “But if you want him to be gentle… he’ll think about it.”

Sam tensed for a moment as Alan braced one hand to his hip, and then he said the first coherent thing he’d said since they ambushed him. “Is that what this is about? He had you, and it was so good you wanted me to experience it for myself?”

“Something like that.” There was a smirk in Flynn’s voice that said there was more to it, but he didn’t volunteer.

Sam grunted as Alan lifted his knees and pushed a finger up inside. There was nothing gentle about it, and Sam screamed as he quickly added a second.

“Come on, Sam, drop the act.” Flynn sounded almost annoyed as Sam strained and struggled, pressing back against him in an effort to escape Alan’s fingers, which were fucking and scissors-stretching him with ferocity. “I know you can take more than that. I’ve seen you take more than that.”

Alan, suddenly interested in the conversation, slowed the movement of his fingers. “What did you see?”

“He brings them in here… sometimes three, four at a time. Lets them do this shit to him. Lets them take him two at a time up his ass sometimes, so I know he can take you without that. But he wants that from you. He likes you. He cares about you.” A pause. “He wants you to care about him, that’s the difference.”

Alan’s eyes darkened and he glared down at Sam. “After tonight, no more of that.” It was a directive issued in a no-nonsense tone. He crooked his fingers inside Sam, causing the young man to writhe and moan. This time it was definitely movement and sound of pleasure; he wasn’t making any move to get away. A third finger, and a thought occurred to Alan. “Can he take a whole fist?” Somehow it felt dirtier to issue the question to Flynn rather than directly to Sam.

Sam answered anyway, crying out, “No!” and squirming nervously at the same time that Flynn responded, “Probably. But you probably don’t want to stretch him out that much if you’re planning to fuck him.”

A moment for consideration before Alan nodded and said, “You make a good point.” Then, back to looking at Sam, “Next time, though. Next time… next time I will fuck your throat, and you’ll swallow it all, and then I will fuck you with my fist until you cum like the little slut you are.” Without further ceremony, he pulled his fingers out and lined up, pushing his cock past the ring of muscle that was Sam’s asshole and filling him in one torturously slow thrust.

When he was all the way inside, he stayed still as long as he could, eyes locked with Sam’s. He watched the color shift – those eyes were impossibly bright blue, but they held so much emotion, it was fascinating to watch. Sam’s mouth was open, breathing in little needy pants, a tiny whine behind each one. And then Alan withdrew, just as slowly as he’d entered, and Sam’s head fell back against his dad’s chest and he cried out, music to Alan’s ears. Again he paused, just the head of his cock inside Sam.

“Look at me, Sam.” Alan waited. He wasn’t sure how long he could wait the kid out, but he had years of experience on him. “Look at me.”  
Slowly, those beautiful blues focused on him. Sure that he had Sam’s full attention, Alan dropped the hammer. “From now on, you belong to me, do you understand? Your body belongs to me.” He hadn’t had it in his head to collar Sam tonight when Flynn had propositioned him, but looking back, he wondered how he could possibly have expected this would end any other way. “No more whoring yourself out to strangers. If anyone else fucks you, it’s because I’ve given you to them. You’ll do what I say and who I say when I say. Understood?”

“Yes…”

“Yes what?” He wanted to hear it. He needed to hear it.

“Yes Sir.”

“And no more games.” Alan slammed forward, filling Sam hard and fast and Sam looked away and cried out again, struggling as Alan fucked him, but Flynn held his son ever tighter, forcing him into surrender. Alan paused after a few deep thrusts, waiting for Sam’s eyes to reach his again. “No more games,” he repeated gruffly. “No more fighting me.”

“No more games,” Sam parroted, but his voice was weak, needy. “Please, Alan, please let me cum, please…”

Alan glanced down. Sam was hard and pulsing. He gave the organ a single stroke before removing his hand. “Not this time.” And he gave a series of thrusts, hard and deep and hitting Sam’s prostate, and came with a grunt inside him. Claiming him. Sam was whimpering but Alan was impressed that as Flynn released his son, the boy didn’t immediately reach for his erection. His eyes stayed focused on Alan.

“You’ll be staying the night?” Flynn asked, though it wasn’t really a necessary question.

Alan nodded anyway, looking at Sam as he added, “And then Sam and I will be taking tomorrow and Friday off from work. He’ll come home with me, and we’ll begin his training.”

Flynn smiled at the pair. “Alan will take good care of you, Sam.” It was at the same time comforting and ominous. “Be a good boy for him.”

With that, he turned and left.

Alan climbed up into bed and cradled Sam gently, one arm draped over the young man’s muscled torso. “You cold?”

Sam’s response was a nod against his pillow, so Alan sat up and retrieved the comforter from where it had fallen onto the floor. They wouldn’t get dressed tonight, or tomorrow night, or for several nights to come – the skin-to-skin contact was important.

Spoon position resumed, and after a moment’s pause, the boy snuggled back into his new Master’s embrace.

Alan smiled into the darkness, running a gentle hand up Sam’s left arm.

It was a good start.


	2. The Re-Education of Sam Flynn, Part 2: Break Down/Rebuild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam trains under his new Master.

Alan’s basement was a veritable S&M playground.

Sam had been down here for three days – plenty of time to experience the playground, its instruments of pleasure and torture… and its architect. His new Master.

Alan Bradley.  
Alan wasn’t cruel, but he was more than a little sadistic, something Sam would never have expected. He’d used Sam thoroughly, mouth and ass; marked him with cum and bruises and welts – both by hand and by riding crop – systematically working to condition Sam to bend instantly to his whims.

And Sam, though he thrashed and cried, loved every minute of it.

He hadn’t been allowed to orgasm since the previous morning, when Alan had forced him to cum four times in a row, until his dick had simply jerked in Alan’s hand but spat out not a drop of ejaculate. Only then had Alan fucked him – from behind, hard and fast, his cock battering Sam’s already sensitive prostate while Sam was bent over a table, arms stretched out and cuffed to a rigging at the far end of the table.

And an o-ring gag affixed, because the day before that, Sam had denied Alan access to his mouth and Alan wanted to make sure Sam understood that was not the way things were going to work.

He did. This morning, Sam had done nothing of the sort. Alan’s alarm had sounded at seven, and Sam had waited for the word as he’d been instructed.

“Knees,” Alan had instructed after a couple of long minutes, and Sam had rolled out and down and sucked Alan like a good boy, drinking every drop he was offered.

Alan had a bedroom upstairs, and he’d told Sam that when things were more solidified, when they’d reached a point of comfort, they would sleep up there together. For now, they shared a queen-sized bed in the basement, because this was where Sam was to be trained. He wasn’t allowed elsewhere until he could prove he deserved that right.

The concrete floor was cold and hard and unforgiving on his knees, but Sam endured because it was Alan, because this was beyond his wildest dreams, because he wanted this more than he wanted anything else in the world.

He’d been hoping for an orgasm as a reward, he couldn’t lie, and though he hadn’t gotten it yet, Alan had been exceptionally gentle today. Sam’s mind was connecting the dots slowly – if Sam was good, Alan was kind. He washed Sam. He massaged Sam’s shoulder muscles, achy from yesterday’s restraints. They talked about ENCOM, about Sam’s goals, and it was almost normal.

Almost.

Around 2:00, in the middle of a conversation about Middle Eastern politics, Alan pulled out a plug as though it were a natural extension of the conversation – as though he was washing his hands while Sam talked. He presented the plug to a kneeling, naked Sam, who still fidgeted with his leather collar. “Suck,” he commanded, tugging the boy’s hands away from his neck.

Sam barely restrained a questioning look. He opened his mouth and accepted the foreign object, and Alan patted his head. His dad’s words from days ago – fuck, it felt like a lifetime ago – echoed in his head. Alan doesn’t do lube, Son. How true that was. Sam was smart, so he did all he could to coat the plug with his saliva. Alan was timing him – eyes glued to his wrist watch. This wasn’t uncommon, but Sam had no idea how much time he had. At a predetermined time, Alan pulled the plug out with a pop. 

“Down.”

Sam obediently dropped to all fours. 

“Good boy. Good. Good.” The pleased tone of Alan’s voice was soothing. It felt new and strange after days of disappointment and anger and abuse, and it was accompanied by a gentle touch to his lower back in the moment before Alan spread him open and inserted the plug into his puffy asshole. “How does that feel, Sam?”

“Good, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“You’ve made me proud today.”  
Sam beamed but didn’t look back at Alan, who was fucking him slowly, gently with the plug.

“Understand that I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve figured that out, haven’t you? That I only punish you when you disobey.”

“Y—yes Sir.” Sam struggled to keep his voice level as Alan slid a finger in alongside the plug.

“But you’ve been very good today. You’ve leaned very well in these few days; you’ve shown great promise. Your Master is proud of you, and before you go home tonight, he will reward you.”

There was a lot of time left in the day. Sam knew that.

Sure enough, as Alan slid a second finger in beside the plug he said, “Relax.” And it wasn’t said in a tone that implied Relax, I won’t hurt you. It was a command, one they’d established on the very first day. Alan wanted him to relax his sphincter muscle. He wanted him to take more. “I told you that very first night I wanted to see you take my fist. You’re lucky I’ve been willing to wait this long.”

Sam couldn’t restrain a whimper as Alan removed the plug and slid three fingers in its place.

“You can take it.” Alan’s free hand braced on Sam’s hip, nails digging half-moon divits into tender skin. “And you will. I’ll tie you up if I have to. But I want to see you show restraint. If I have to tie you up, your reward disappears.”

“It hurts, please, it hurts…”

“You let strangers DP you. Didn’t that hurt?”

“Yes.” Sam was crying now. Even as Alan’s pinky joined the first three fingers inside Sam, his free hand released from his hip and came down – SMACK! – hard on Sam’s ass cheeks and the boy cried out.

“Yes what? If we have to go back to basics, Sam, there will be hell to pay. I don’t want this to be a wasted weekend.”

“Yes Sir. Yes Sir it hurt it always hurt…”

“And you loved it, didn’t you? You didn’t care who it was as long as there was somebody filling you up. Answer me, Sam.”

“I loved it,” he wailed. “But I’ll never do it again, I swear Sir I swear…”

Alan paused his fingers for a moment. “Well now, don’t say that,” he intoned. “Just no more strangers, and not without my permission. See… I have plans for you. Once you’re up to par, I have every intention of sharing you. I want to see that DP. I want to see it when you’re blindfolded and you have no idea who’s fucking you. I want to watch.” The conversation had distracted Sam, but now Alan tucked his thumb and inched his hand forward, burying his right fist inside Sam’s body. “There,” he said, left hand back to gripping Sam’s hip with bruising force. The bruises would be good, especially if they spent time apart. They both knew it. The bruises were reminders. “I knew you could do it.”

Sam sniffled. Hiccupped. He’d never been in such pain.

And then Alan’s left hand strayed from his hip. It moved under Sam’s body… gripped his cock, and he moaned. He moaned and rocked and Alan chuckled softly. “There you go.”

Sam wasn’t hard, but he was getting there, and Alan’s hands were masterful, stroking Sam to his full potential in time with the movement of his right fist, still buried inside Sam. “I wish you could see yourself. Such a greedy little asshole you have.” Alan bent forward and laid a kiss at the base of Sam’s spine. “Next time I’ll videotape it.”  
Sam knew by now that Alan always made good on his promises. He’d be lucky if that video didn’t show up at the ENCOM Christmas party.

“What are the rules about orgasm, Sam?”

Sam drew a shaky breath. “Never alone. And never without your permission.”

“Very good. So you’re not going to cum yet, are you?”

“N—no Sir.”

“Good.” Alan pulled his fist out slowly and inched it back in, and Sam hung his head, squeezed his eyes shut tight, consumed by equal parts pain and pleasure. He felt used and humiliated and dirty… and safe. It was strange among the other emotions, but it was right, somehow. Alan was Alan. He’d known the man his whole life, and even if he’d miscalculated Alan’s ability to be kinky – miscalculated by a fucking mile – one thing he was sure about was that Alan wouldn’t give him more than he could handle. He’d push limits and toe the line but when it came down to it, he did care about Sam. It had been clear that very first night, when Sam had said No and Alan had instantly recoiled. But he hadn’t really meant No, and the instant he’d elaborated, Alan had gone back to work.

Alan’s hands began to move faster, both of them, and he crooked the fingers inside Sam’s body and it felt like he was grabbing Sam’s prostate and he’d all but forgotten about the pain by this point. The pleasure consumed it and he wept and bucked but Alan said, “No,” and Sam knew what he meant. He took long, slow breaths as Alan possessed him. His vision went blurry and he knew he didn’t have much left in him, he had to let it go, but he wanted to please Alan, wanted today to end on a good note, wanted Alan to take him upstairs to his bedroom and be proud of him…

“Who do you belong to, Sam?”

“I belong to my Master.”

The hand on Sam’s cock tightened and sped up. “And who is your Master?”

“You are, Sir.”

“What’s my name?” Faster still. Harder. Sam clenched his ass and that only brought a flash of pain as Alan’s fist slammed back inside.

“Aaaahhhh…”

“What’s my name?”

“Alan. Alan!”

Suddenly the hand was gone from Sam’s cock. Another moment more and the hand was gone from his ass as well. And then Alan was tugging at the strip of leather around Sam’s neck, pulling it tight as he braced his weight over Sam’s back. He covered Sam bodily, curving over his spine, enveloping him. And then he pulled at the collar. Whispered in Sam’s ear, “Cum.”

And Sam did.

Oh, how he did.

He cried out and shuddered and shouted and his body spasmed under Alan’s weight and Alan just held him and kissed his neck and traced his collar and then, just when Sam felt he was about to collapse from the weight of it all, Alan rolled them both to the floor on their sides, both arms coming around Sam’s middle, pulling his tired weight flush against Alan’s own skin. 

There was no talking for a very long time. Sam sobbed a little, silently, and Alan stroked his hair and held him tighter and kissed the nape of his neck, along the line of his collar. Sam knew he wasn’t to speak, not until Alan did. So he waited, and slowly he relaxed, until all he could feel was the warmth of Alan.  
“You’ve made me very proud.”

It was breathed into the space between them. Sam smiled. Hummed happily, but said nothing.

“We have some things to talk about. To begin with… tomorrow, we both need to go back to work. But that doesn’t mean that what we’ve established here this weekend goes away.”

“No Sir.”

Alan was silent for a long moment. Idle fingers traced patterns on Sam’s thigh. “It is your choice to wear or not wear your collar outside this house. In positions like ours… discretion is key, and in my mind there is a difference between humiliation…” he cupped Sam’s flaccid cock for emphasis, “and downright embarrassment. I will not embarrass you. I expect the same.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Alan gently guided Sam to turn and face him and looked deep into his eyes, straight to his soul as he asked, “What are your rights, Sam?”

Sam drew a shaky breath; let it out slowly. “I have the right to say ‘No’ and mean it. I have the right to use a safeword at any time. I have the right to end this relationship at any time and for any reason. I have the right to feel safe in the presence of my Master. I have the right to have my basic needs provided for and to feel at all times and above all else loved, protected and cared for to the deepest degree.”

“That’s right.” Alan’s arms came around him then, pulling him into a genuine embrace. Again, a long, silent pause, and Sam closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch and feel of Alan’s gentleness. “Would you like to continue this conversation upstairs in my bed?”

Sam nearly cried at the suggestion. He managed a hoarse, “Very much, Sir.”

Alan assisted him to stand and provided strong arms for support as Sam stumbled and limped, but he never fell, never even tripped a little, because Alan was there behind him the whole way.

Alan would never let him fall.


	3. The Re-Education of Sam Flynn, Part 3: Well Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alan is a proud Master, Kevin is a proud father, and Sam is a proud sub. Ed Dillinger Junior is a guest, and everything's a little messed up.

A month passed. Sam moved in with Alan – he told Flynn it felt right, that it was time, and Flynn understood. That didn’t mean he didn’t sometimes worry. He knew from experience that Alan could be pretty intense, and he’d never reached the point of a 24/7 relationship with the man.

But he trusted him. He wouldn’t have given Sam to him if he didn’t.

Shortly after the move, Flynn noticed that Sam started wearing his collar to the office – discretely tucked under the collar of his shirt, hidden from view except at the end of the day when the ENCOM tower emptied out, when it was just Alan, Sam and Kevin left on the executive floor and they all relaxed a bit, rolling up sleeves and discarding ties and loosening shirts. But their interactions were business-like but for an occasional warning look from Alan if Sam got out of line – to which Sam would quickly mutter, “Sorry Sir” – or a casual touch that lingered just a few moments too long.

Another month, and Flynn wasn’t the only one noticing a change in Sam. Eyebrows raised all around ENCOM, and Flynn even received compliments that Sam seemed to be “growing up” – and good for Flynn, whipping the kid into shape once he got back.

Flynn nodded and smiled, knowing all the while that he had nothing to do with it, and that if there was whipping involved, it was literal, not figurative – and at the hands of Alan Bradley.

He wouldn’t be surprised if there was whipping, really. Flynn still had the scars.

Then one day, in one of those late-night meetings – except that Sam was missing, had been absent all day, and Flynn didn’t question that – Alan said, “I think you should come over for dinner on Friday.”

Flynn raised an amused eyebrow as they shared a look, bent over quarterly financial reports. “Oh?”

A nod. “I’m about ready to show Sam off, and who better to see him first?”

Flynn couldn’t argue with that, really.

He arrived on time on Friday; rang the bell and Alan answered, ushering Flynn inside.

Flynn had been to Alan’s house before. The man hadn’t moved since 1984. That was back… a lifetime ago. He took a moment to take in the things that had changed – deco, mostly – and the things that hadn’t. When they reached the end of the main hall, Flynn’s hand fell absently on the red knob that would open the basement door. A flash of memories hit him.

_“I wish to exercise my right to be freed.”_

_Alan swallowed hard, but nodded, because of course, Flynn had that right. “You wish to end this.”_

_“I do.”_

_“I’ll miss you.”_

_He did something then that he hadn’t done since their relationship began – something that solidified for both of them that this was the end. He reached out and initiated a touch, palming Alan’s cheek and kissing his lips slowly, gently. “I’ll always love you.”_

_“Goodbye, Flynn.”_

It had been right after Jordan’s death. In part, Flynn had blamed himself – he’d been so wrapped up in Alan that he hadn’t given her the time and attention she deserved… and then she was gone. But he’d been determined to do right by Sam, determined that the boy would be his redemption…

That hadn’t gone exactly as planned.

Alan’s hands came down on his shoulders, jolting him from his memories and causing him to jump just a little.

“Is it exactly as I remember?” Flynn closed his eyes, picturing his son shackled into the spreader, body open and helpless as Alan fucked him, came on him and in him, covered him in bruises. For reasons he couldn’t explain, that made him smile and he struggled to come to terms with the fact that he _wanted_ that for Sam – what kind of father willingly gave his son over to a sadistic Dom? …And yet.

“I’ve replaced a few things, rolled with the changes in technology… but essentially yes.”

“I don’t want to go down there.”

“No, you don’t.”

They turned in tandem away from the door and headed for the kitchen, where Sam was putting the finishing touches on a dinner salad. Flynn laughed in disbelief. “You made a salad?”

Sam nodded proudly, looking up. “Dessert, too.”

A shake of his head and Flynn just stood for a moment, hands on his hips, taking in his son. He looked clean and well cared for, which shouldn’t have surprised him – he saw the boy at the office nearly every day. He was fully dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt. The only thing that belied the appearance of a completely normal relationship between he and Alan was the collar.

It was in plain view now, a single strip of black leather with a metal loop at the front.

“You look good, Sam.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Sam dropped a few croutons on the salad and then moved out from behind the marble countertop of the island and hugged his dad tight. Whispered, “Thank you for coming,” and Flynn could only nod and return the embrace. They hadn’t hugged like this since the Grid, since before they came back and Flynn learned his son had turned into… what he was.

But it was OK now. He was with Alan. Alan had fixed him, made him right, created a controlled environment where Sam could be himself and not put himself at risk, because that’s what Alan did. Alan was a safety net for all things.

They sat down for dinner and conversation started light – ENCOM. Big changes were coming. Flynn was working on _something_ , he wouldn’t say what, and Alan lightly chided him for keeping secrets and _that hasn’t worked out so well for you in the past, if I recall._

There was a shift during dessert – Flynn didn’t miss it. Sam had made a blueberry pie (“You know how to make pie?” The response had been a proud, “Pies, plural. But I know blueberry’s your favorite.”) and they were about halfway finished when Alan looked at Sam and said, “We’re going to play tonight.”

Everything stilled for a beat – Sam’s fork was halfway to his mouth. Flynn chewed long and slow on a single bite. Alan waited for a response, and the way his eyes remained on Sam, it was clear who was supposed to give it. Finally, Sam’s eyes flitted nervously to his dad for a fraction of a second before he said, “Yes Sir.”

Alan nodded solemnly and turned his attention to Flynn. “I’d like you to stay. I think you’ll enjoy the show.”

Flynn finally swallowed the bite in his mouth as he nodded. A cold shiver of anticipation ran up his spine – Alan had the most careful poker face of anyone Flynn had ever met. A clench of his jaw gave him away when he was angry or biting his tongue; other than that, he was stone-faced and impossible to read.

His wording – _I think you’ll enjoy the show_ – implied that he didn’t intend for Flynn to participate. He just wanted him to watch. That was fine.

Flynn liked to watch.

That first night, the night Alan had collared Sam, after Flynn left Sam’s room and returned to his own, he’d jerked off to some hybrid fantasy of what he’d just seen and memories of Alan from all those years ago. He still found the man, his demeanor and his dominance arousing – but that wasn’t his place anymore. It was Sam’s now.

The next few minutes were a blur. Sam cleared the table and the three of them moved into the living room. When they reached it, Alan’s level voice instructed, “Present,” and Flynn tensed – his body still twitched to react to the command, even after all these years – and Sam stripped carefully and took a wide-leg stance facing Alan, arms behind his back, wrists crossed, neck barred submissively.

Alan took just a moment to observe Sam’s posture before he strolled past the young man. Wordlessly he motioned for Flynn to have a seat on the couch; Flynn did, draping one arm over the arm as he watched Alan and Sam with unmasked curiosity. Alan reached his fireplace mantle and picked up the camera that sat on it. He turned it on Sam and hit a button. “Sam, what’s rule number one?”

“Honesty, Sir. We are both to be honest with one another at all times.”

“Correct.” Alan paused; changed his angle slightly, camera still aimed at Sam. “I’d like to know if there’s anyone – say, maybe at work – that you fantasize about other than me.” Sam hesitated. Flynn counted the seconds, knew Alan was counting them, too – unconsciously tensed as the count hit seven. “Too long.”

Sam’s eyes closed, and his head dropped forward, and Flynn tensed even more.

“ _Present_!” Alan barked, and Sam’s head snapped up, and now he was tense everywhere and Flynn gritted his teeth in anticipation of Alan’s next move. But Alan’s next words were, “Your punishment is deferred because I have other plans. But I won’t forget. Tomorrow we will address your disobedience and any other infractions you incur this evening. Answer my question, Sam.”

The count began again. At three seconds, Sam’s answer spilled into the tense silence of the room, a loud whisper, “Yes Sir.”

“Who?”

Sam licked his lips, but seemed to have enough restraint not to resist again. The answer surprised Flynn; he never would have guessed. “Ed Dillinger, Junior, Sir.”

The answer didn’t seem to surprise Alan in the slightest. “That’s what I thought.” Perfectly on cue, the doorbell rang.

Alan left the room to answer it, and when they were alone, Sam’s eyes darted nervously to his father. Flynn simply raised his eyebrows. He suspected Sam was looking for pity, but he wouldn’t be granting it.

When Alan returned, he was studying a sheet of paper in his hand, and he was not alone. As he reached the fireplace, he held the paper out for Sam to read. It was medical in nature – test results. The identifier at the top read in bold type: Dillinger, Edward C. Jr. “Ed’s clean,” Alan said, tone soft but edgy. “Which means he gets to play with you unprotected. That’s good, because I want to see his cum ooze out of your ass.” The young Dillinger came to stand in front of Sam, placing a small black bag on the coffee table. He wore a tight black t-shirt and black jeans – a far cry from the preppy business clothes he wore to the office. Alan set the test results on the coffee table next to Ed’s bag and stood between his partner and the second young man. “Ed is currently without a sub. I have no intention of bringing him in as a permanent fixture, but when it dawned on me there might be a mutual interest, I approached him. He was agreeable so long as he had your consent.” Alan activated the playback on his camera, displaying it for Ed’s benefit.

The scene played back. Flynn heard every word. He couldn’t see the screen, but it didn’t matter. It was etched in his memory and he could see it when he closed his eyes.

When it ended, Alan set the back on the mantle where he’d initially picked it up from and looked from Sam to Ed. “You’ll follow the rules of the House. That means what happens tonight stays inside these walls, understood?” Ed nodded and tugged at his pants a bit. Sam’s fingers twitched behind his back; Flynn wondered idly if the boy was resisting the itch to finger his collar or cover himself. Maybe both. “For the next hour, you may do anything you wish to him so long as you leave no marks. Sam, you will open your body to Junior and let him use you however he wishes so long as he stays within the rules. You will remember your position and you will not initiate or refuse contact. You are to obey him as you obey me with one exception – he is not allowed to grant you an orgasm. You will endure, and you will not cum, not for him. That right is mine alone. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir.” Flynn was captivated. His son’s voice was barely audible. He watched Alan give a single tug at the metal ring on Sam’s collar, bringing him in for a kiss before stepping away and joining Flynn on the couch.

Junior took a step back and studied Sam – looked him blatantly up and down. “You’re hard already,” he mused as his eyes reached Sam’s once more. His eyebrows went up. “You’re looking forward to this.”

It wasn’t a question, and Sam recognized that. He lifted his chin and didn’t offer a response.

“Don’t worry. I’m looking forward to it, too.” He started to pace a slow circle around Sam. At the right side, he used his foot to nudge Sam’s out a little more, widening his stance. “Alan said that before he collared you, you were quite the little whore. Gangbangs? Double pen? Sam Flynn.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue, and then as he reached the back of Sam’s body, he reached out to touch for the first time, fingers running lightly over the skin of Sam’s ass. Sam shivered at the feel, and Ed laughed quietly, low in his throat. “If you needed discipline so badly in your dear daddy’s absence, you needed only to ask. Alan or I would have attended to it.” Ed completed his circumnavigation of Sam, and as he returned to the front, his eyes fell to Sam’s cock. “I heard your Master tell you that you’re not allowed to cum for me. You should know I have no intention of making that an easy task. You see, Sam…” Ed leaned in and licked Sam’s neck from the top of his collar to his earlobe and then whispered, “I want your orgasm just as much as he wants you not to have it. I want to know you’re still a little slut inside, that you’ll spread your legs for anybody and get off on it. I want to see you get punished for disobeying your Master, and I want to know every time I see you after tonight that I made you cum, and that Alan put you in a chastity belt for a week because of it.” Ed gave a glance over his shoulder.

“Ten days,” Alan returned.

“Ten days.” Ed nodded approvingly. Then he reached out and took hold of Sam’s cock and gave it a few hard strokes. “But not yet. Because I know that if you go off, it’s over, and I won’t get to have you.”

Flynn was distracted from the scene as he looked over at Alan and noticed the Dom’s appearance. He’d stripped, for one thing, and Flynn wasn’t sure when that had happened. And he was hard as a rock, leisurely stroking himself. He was clearly enjoying the show. Flynn reached down to adjust himself subconsciously – he was well on his way himself, but in all his life he’d never cum by his own hand in Alan’s presence.

“You can undress, Kevin,” Alan offered as though he could read Flynn’s thoughts. It was a suggestion, an implied “if you want to” in the tone, and it felt strange somehow. “Make yourself comfortable.”

And though Flynn’s mind was screaming that there was something very, very wrong about getting off while his son was being used like a fucktoy, he simply couldn’t help it. In his mind, he saw himself and Alan all those years ago. And so he removed his pants and underwear at least, to relieve the tension. A moment more and he took himself in hand at the same time that Junior pushed Sam to his knees.

“Take it out and suck it,” the young Dillinger instructed as he ran rough fingers through Sam’s hair. “Show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

Sam opened Junior’s pants, clicking down the zipper slowly. Then he reached inside and wrapped his hand around the hardness he found there. He gave it a quick study – the kid was a little bigger than Alan, both in length and girth, but Sam started licking away at the head after only a moment’s consideration, and Kevin couldn’t help but be impressed.

“ _Suck it_ ,” Junior gritted out. “Don’t fucking act like you don’t know what to do with that shit.” His fingers tightened in Sam’s hair and Sam moaned a little but complied, opening his mouth and letting Junior’s length in, inch by inch.

Dillinger was impatient. He waited until he was halfway in, then gave a thrust of his hips, forcing the young Flynn to take the rest all at once. “That’s it. Now work your throat.” A hand at the back of Sam’s head as Junior moved his hips, fucking Sam’s throat, and just as that first night in Sam’s bedroom, Sam allowed it without complaint, without gagging.

“See that?” Alan’s murmur jolted Flynn’s attention away from the scene. He looked at the other man on the couch, who was gesturing with his free hand toward Sam’s lower body. “See the way his cock jerks just from having a dick in his mouth? Must be hereditary.”

“Must be.”

“Touch me, Kevin.”

That was definitely a command. If he didn’t comply, there’d be no hurt feelings – he was under no obligation. But he felt compelled to do as he was asked. “No strings?”

“No strings.”

It was all the reassurance he needed. Flynn scooted back and curled into Alan’s body, let Alan remove the last of his clothing, and took Alan’s hardness in hand, stroking him lightly, thumbing the head with expert precision as they watched Junior hold Sam’s head still and fuck his face.

“You are a good little cocksucker,” Junior was musing as Kevin’s attention drifted back to the two younger men.

“He is,” Alan whispered. “That mouth is fucking _magical_. Almost better than yours was, and with time…”

Kevin drew a ragged breath. Tightened his hand on Alan’s cock.

“I know you swallow, too. I’m not even going to ask about that. Mmmm… fuck, Sam. That’s it. That’s it.” Junior’s movements were becoming more erratic. He was going to lose it soon, everyone knew that, and he did – giving Sam a taste and then pulling out completely so that the last of his ejaculate ended up on Sam’s face.

In the aftermath, Ed drew a few deep, ragged breaths, an enigmatic smile on his face as he pressed a thumb to Sam’s cheek, smearing his cum across the skin and rubbing it in. Sam recoiled from the touch, leaned his head back – and no one missed it. Flynn bit his lip. Alan tensed. Junior backhanded Sam across the mouth and then roughly grabbed his chin, forcing him to stay still. Then he used his free hand to wag his softening dick at Sam. “Lick it clean.”

Flynn’s eyes went wide as his son locked his jaw and shook his head, same as he’d done to Alan that first night. His hand stilled on Alan’s erection and he glanced up, but Alan’s expression was blank. After a moment of silence, Alan used his hand to move Flynn’s, resuming the hand job. He said nothing, but his eyes were focused solely on Sam.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” Junior stepped back, clearly changing his tactics. “You’ll regret that. And I suspect in the end you’ll pay for it twice over.” He gave a glance in Alan’s direction as he reached into the black bag he’d brought with him. A moment of indecision and he pulled out two objects. The first was an o-ring gag, which he forced roughly into Sam’s mouth and secured with practiced ease at the back of his head. The second was long and phallic-shaped, and it buzzed when Ed pushed a button. “Ten inches,” he told Sam, who whimpered in protest against the gag. “If you behave for your punishment, I’ll be slow and gentle and turn it on for you, and it’ll almost feel good. If you’re a bitch, I will use it to tear you apart. Alan said no marks, but he didn’t say a word about not making you bleed.”

Sam’s whimpers turned to full-on muffled cries of terror as Junior instructed, “Down.” He complied instantly and Dillinger chuckled. “There you go. Are you drooling yet? I bet your Master would like to see that.”

Another stop at the bag, and Ed pulled out a paddle before kneeling to inspect Sam. He pressed a finger in through the ring and pressed down on Sam’s tongue to expedite the desired reaction.

“Kevin.” Alan’s voice drew Flynn’s attention away from the scene. He kissed him, long and slow and gentle, and Flynn could only listen and moan against the familiarity of Alan’s mouth as Sam cried out and Junior spanked, hard and merciless. Sam clearly had something in his mouth – the vibrator, Flynn guessed – because his cries were more muffled than before.

“Bite down on that thing all you want,” he heard Ed say. “It feels no pain.” And then Alan’s hand closed around Kevin’s erection and began jerking him off in earnest as they kissed, and Kevin immersed himself in it, the pleasure drowning out his son’s pitiful cries as the spanking continued. He stopped counting somewhere around 25.

“You know he’s watching us,” Alan whispered as he thumbed the tip, wetting it with precum before the knowing strokes continued. “Do you want to cum?”

Flynn swallowed hard. “Will you?”

“No. That’s for Sam, for later.” Flynn’s mind scrambled, remembering old rules. “Kevin,” Alan said, cupping his cheek, “You don’t belong to me anymore. If you did, I’d have cum all over your face already. Your pleasure is yours to have.”

Sam’s voice broke through their conversation then – the spanking had ended and he clearly had his speaking ability back because he was sobbing and begging, “Please stop, please don’t, please…”

“Junior’s going to fuck him with that dildo.”

Alan nodded. “You want to watch, don’t you?”

“I…”

“it’s OK.”

Sam’s scream drowned out any response Flynn might have offered. And no, no, he couldn’t watch; it was too much, so he let Alan resume kissing and touching him. Sam eventually quieted, and slowly his screams were replaced by the whirr of the vibrator. And then moans. And then muffled moans. Curiosity got the best of both older men and Flynn turned in Alan’s arms to see Sam, the dildo buzzing away inside his body and Ed’s cock sliding between his lips.

“Beautiful,” Alan breathed.

They watched, and Alan stroked Flynn with purpose now as Sam moaned around his mouthful and Ed said, “That’s it, Sam. God, you’re so good. You were born for this. Oh… mmmm yeah. Just like that.” He wasn’t forcing himself down Sam’s throat this time – Sam was taking it willingly, greedily, fingers twitching behind his back as he ached to reach out and touch.

But Alan had said no. _You will not initiate or refuse contact_.

Junior pulled out, rubbed his cock against Sam’s cheek for good measure and then reached for his bag one more time, this time unearthing a blindfold. “I don’t want you looking at them. I want all your attention when I fuck you. I want all your attention when I make you cum.” He placed the blindfold, removed the dildo and laid Sam on his back, heels on his shoulders as he stroked Sam’s neglected cock. Sam’s moans were loud and needy and likely sparked everyone in the room – Flynn started bucking in time with Alan’s strokes. “How’s that feel, Handsome?”

“Good,” Sam panted. “God, so good.”

“Do you like me touching your cock, Sam?”

“Yes. Yes… fuck…”

“I like it too, you know. Such a nice cock. But so hard. So very hard. I bet you’d really like to cum, wouldn’t you?”

“I—I can’t.”

“Sure you can. It’ll feel _so good_ to let go.” Ed’s voice had gone silky smooth. Encouraging, coaxing… It was a Praise and Rewards tone, Kevin knew, and for the first time that night, he pitied Sam. But Alan’s mouth was on his cock and Flynn couldn’t worry about Sam anymore. “What about if I fuck you? You want my cock in your ass, Sam Flynn?”

“I…”

“Admit it.”

“I… I… yes… please fuck me, please…”

There was some rustling and shifting and then dual moans as Ed filled Sam, and then the unmistakable sound of two bodies slapping together. Ed’s moans were deep and pleasured; Sam’s had an edge of terror, an edge of pain.

“Cum for me, you little slut. Do it. Give in. Give it to me… ugh… ugh…”

Sam’s moans gave way to cries, needy, pitiful cries and pleas to Junior, to Alan, to anyone who might be listening. Flynn looked up. Alan removed his mouth from Flynn’s erection and said, “I think it would be good for you to cum with Junior.”

Flynn could only nod in response. He was too far gone to hold out much longer.

“Give it up, Sam…”

“I caaaan’t…” There were tears in that cry. “Please Alan pleasepleaseplease…”

“Don’t do it, Sam.” Alan sat up. Fisted Flynn’s erection and glued his eyes on the two younger men. “Don’t.”

“You know you want to. You’re so close, I can feel you twitching, you want to cum for me, you know you do…”

“Alan, I need—I can’t—“

“You can and you will.” Junior’s movements were becoming erratic, but Sam was squirming so much it was hard to tell who would win the race.

In the end, Ed couldn’t hold out. He let himself go inside of Sam, and with his shout of completion – tinged with regret – Flynn exploded over Alan’s fist.

There was a moment where no one spoke, and the room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Then Ed pulled out, and Alan got up from the couch to kneel beside Sam. Ed didn’t go far – he knelt by Sam’s head, wiped his brow almost tenderly in a final touch, and then Alan removed the blindfold and slid inside his lover. Flynn knew this move. He watched as Alan sheathed himself fully, then took Sam’s cock in his fist and leaned over him, staring into blinking blue eyes. “Are you ready, Sam?”

“Please Alan, please please please…” His head thrashed from side to side.

Alan lifted Sam’s right leg to his shoulder, then the left. He covered the top of Sam’s body, so that Sam’s world consisted only of the two of them. He didn’t even thrust. He simply squeezed Sam’s balls and said, “Now,” and Sam cried out and writhed and bucked as he came. Alan stayed inside, riding out Sam’s orgasm, waiting for that moment where it was just about over – and then gave a series of hard, fast thrusts, and their moans merged and mingled into one musical sound as Alan emptied himself inside of Sam. They stayed like that, as close as two people can be, until they’d both come down completely. “Sam,” he said at a point when Flynn was sure his son had fallen asleep.

But the boy returned, “Yes Sir?” in a small voice, and Flynn suddenly felt like he was intruding on a private moment. For his part, Junior had already put his clothes back on.

“You’ve made me very proud tonight.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Would you like to go to bed now?”

“With just me.”

“Very much, Sir.”

That was all that needed to be said. Sam was safe. Sam was happy. Sam was a little kinky, a little fucked up, but he was done sleeping with strange men who carried who knew what. He was done giving himself away. He belonged to someone, wholly and completely, and there was no one else in the world Flynn would rather have as his son’s Master… than the man who had once mastered him.


End file.
